The Young Ranchers; Or, Fighting the SiouxEllis, Edward Sylvester
General
The Young Ranchers; Or, Fighting the Sioux
Ellis, Edward Sylvester
Dakota Indians -- Juvenile fiction; Indians of North America -- Juvenile fiction; Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction
He knew she was right, for he caught the sound at the same moment.
Someone was stealing through the wood near them. It was a person, beyond
question, for a horse would have made more noise, and the sounds of his
hoofs would have been more distinct than anything else. That which, fell
upon their ears was the occasional crackling of a twig, and the brushing
aside of the obtruding limbs. No matter with what care an Indian warrior
threaded his way through the timber in this dense gloom, he could not
avoid such slight evidences of his movements--so slight, indeed, that
but for the oppressive stillness and the strained hearing of the husband
and wife they would not have detected them.
Confident that the red man could not trace them in the gloom, even
though so dangerously near, the dread now was that the ponies would
betray them. Those watchful animals often prove the most valuable allies
of the fleeing fugitive, for they possess the power of discovering
impending danger before it can become known to their masters. But when
they make such discovery they are apt to announce it by a stamp of the
hoof or with a sniffing of the nostrils, which, while serving the master
well, has the disadvantage also of apprising the enemy that his approach
has become known.
Stealing from his position beside his wife, the rancher stepped to the
mare and passed his hand reassuringly over her mouth, doing the same
with his own pony. This action was meant as a command for them to hold
their peace, though whether it was understood to the extent that it
would be obeyed, remains to be seen.
CHAPTER XVII.
THROUGH THE WOOD.
Even in that trying moment, Starr could not help reflecting upon the
peculiar turn matters had taken. He failed to understand the action of
the solitary Sioux on the other side, who had contented himself with the
simple theft of the pack-pony, when he might have done tenfold more
injury to the fugitives.
And now, judging from the slight sounds that reached him, there was
another single warrior prowling through the wood, instead of several. It
might be, however, that his companions were near, awaiting the result of
his reconnoissance, and would descend upon the whites the instant the
way opened.
But these speculations were cut short by the alarming discovery that
some strange fatality was bringing the scout fearfully close to where
the husband and wife were standing beside their animals, hardly daring
to speak in the most guarded whispers.
It must have been that the ponies understood what was expected from
them, for they gave not the least sound. There was not a stamp of a
hoof, and their breathing was as gentle as an infant's. So long as they
remained mute it would seem that the peril must pass by.
And so it ought to have done, for assuredly the Indian could have gained
no clew to the whereabouts of the fugitives from them or their animals.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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